


That Never Ever Ever Sleeps

by htebazytook



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, NYC - Freeform, PWP, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-27
Updated: 2010-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 16:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Set" around the <a href="http://i590.photobucket.com/albums/ss343/htebazytook3/tnees-3.jpg">Great</a> <a href="http://i590.photobucket.com/albums/ss343/htebazytook3/tnees-2.jpg">New York</a> <a href="http://i590.photobucket.com/albums/ss343/htebazytook3/tnees-1.jpg">Pinto Sighting</a>.  So, so PWP.  Kinda rough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Never Ever Ever Sleeps

**Title:** That Never Ever Ever Sleeps  
 **Author:** [](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/profile)[**htebazytook**](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** very NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:** <\--  
 **Pairing:** Zach/Chris  
 **Author's Notes:** "Set" around the [Great](http://i590.photobucket.com/albums/ss343/htebazytook3/tnees-3.jpg) [New York](http://i590.photobucket.com/albums/ss343/htebazytook3/tnees-2.jpg) [Pinto Sighting](http://i590.photobucket.com/albums/ss343/htebazytook3/tnees-1.jpg). So, so PWP. Kinda rough.

 

 

"You really fail at this, you know that? That is _not_ how you hail a cab. I mean, aren't you like, from the big city or something?"

"You have to call for cabs in Pittsburgh, _Christopher_ ," Zach says distractedly. "They aren't just roaming the streets at your disposal."

"Well what the fuck is the point then?"

"Good question. Hey! I'm waving my arm for a reason dammit! Fuckers . . . "

"Amateur," Chris scoffs. Sighs long-sufferingly. "Move aside, Zach. Just _see_ what a difference a liberal application of the Pine charm makes." Chris executes a suave little gesture that gets the next cab to stop right away.

"I hate you."

Chris grins at him. His ears are slightly sunburnt and it's fucking endearing.

They hop in the cab and close the doors on loud sidewalk life, sighing at the silence.

Chris takes off his sunglasses, then reaches into Zach's bubble to steal his as well, invasion of space a little heart stopping in its ease. Zach's gotta regroup—turns his head to look back at the eruption of green they'd just abandoned and watches more carefree park-goers hurrying through the gates.

New York is a whirlwind of people—I mean, there _are_ people elsewhere in the world, but in LA it's more like little throngs to decorate the landscape. Here it's just a river and the springtime and the flow of people make Zach feel reckless.

"So . . ." Chris trails off into a wild grin—he's so bright with life today. "Are we going back to your hotel, or . . . ?"

"Well, I'm—hm. maybe somewhere less, uh, _classy_ would be more appropriate."

"Excuse me, Zachary—are you implying that I don't have class?"

The cab driver interrupts with an indifferent sigh. "Where _to?_ "

Chris gets close and whispers: "We are in _trou-ble_."

"Maybe, but we certainly are not Tootie from The Facts of Life, so . . . "

"Just," Chris says over him, leaning forward and addressing the cab driver, "go in like the opposite direction of Manhattan or whatever."

The guy grumbles something about tourists and pulls back into traffic. It's okay—they're gonna give him a ridiculous tip. They're gonna have to if things go the way they usually do.

"Aren't you hot in that thing?" Chris asks, plucks at Zach's cardigan.

"Aren't you hot in that _thing?_ " Zach retorts, pulls on Chris's ludicrously thick sleeve.

"Nope, uh-uh, you're not allowed to criticize my awesome, _practical_ wardrobe. You do _not_ want me to retaliate—I mean, your shoelaces are glow-in-the-dark green, dude."

But seriously, the cab is fucking hot—windows up and that clearly insane driver staunchly refusing to put on the AC.

Chris continues to pick at Zach's clothes unnecessarily, tips Zach's hat down so he can't see for a minute and slips his hand into Zach's pocket sneakily. "Think these are tight enough?"

"Well, you're not helping," Zach points out.

"Feels like old times, huh?"

It does. Running around with places to go and people to see, guesstimated time frames and designer suits and late awesome drunken nights. And the things he gets to do to Chris during every frantic timeslot before the next whatever on their schedule.

It's been a while, and Zach has forgotten how much he's missed their hookups until a couple of hours ago when he'd discovered that the way Chris's eyes matched every snippet of sky between skyscrapers left him breathless.

They may be in the back of a musty cab, but Zach can still smell grass and sunscreen. He bets that he'll find Chris's skin greasy at the back of his neck where he forgot to rub it in, already knows that leaning close means rich naturey perfumes overlaying Chris's aftershave.

Chris's hand shoots up into Zach's hair without warning—Zach jumps a little and Chris smirks. "Not sure if I like the new look yet," he says, fingers slipping lazily through the free strands, easy.

Zach shrugs.

Chris pretends to evaluate him, thumb pushing between Zach's skull and the brim of his hat where it's sweaty and Zach should not be so invested in all these little touches. Makes him want to screw it and screw Chris in the back of a cab while they're stuck in traffic. Chris catches his eye like he's a telepath and licks his lips and unbuttons Zach's cardigan without asking.

"Hey—"

"You looked hot, Zachary," he says, pushes it off Zach's shoulders and pushes little caresses up the back of the Zach's hand, trails fingernails lightly over the underside of Zach's wrist and raises goosebumps.

They happen to be staring at each other by now, so Zach's gotta look away again, out into the world through the glarey-sunny window. He thinks he sees something resembling a motel up ahead, suspiciously manifesting as if on cue. Zach has no fucking clue where they are or how long it's been, and he doesn't particularly care.

"You can—" Zach has to clear his throat; Chris smothers a laugh and lets his hand fall to Zach's thigh, creeping north. Zach leans forward in his seat but it only helps Chris's hand along on its journey. "You-can-just-pull-over-here."

The cab stops a minute later, badly parked, but when they stumble out it's into a shock of shade and a swift cool gust of wind. Zach hands the driver a hundred dollar bill because he used to put up with ten-cent tips after busting his ass all day, not to mention that he'd prefer to keep this off of Twitter or what the fuck ever. Chris thanks the guy and drags Zach quickly over to the crumbling parking lot of the motel, through patches of lively sun and the sharp shadows of big buildings.

Chris is trying to take the lead, but when they get to the door Zach seizes the opportunity to sort of push him off to the side and make it to the front desk first. A middle aged attendant reading The Vampire Diaries behind the computer barely spares them a second glance, types something in and takes a long sip of her Sprite before handing him the key. Zach's head is throbbing from the heat of the unventilated lobby, can barely remember the words spoken or handing her the money up front.

Chris tries to wrestle the key out of Zach's hand on the way to the room but Zach grabs it tighter, metal digging into flesh painfully just to keep the upper hand.

The room is dark and unlit but stuffy as hell, very brown and confining-looking with an old TV that reflects the sun brilliantly, continues doing so in little strips of light after Chris closes the blinds.

Zach's locking the door and as soon as it clicks shut Chris is pressed against him from behind, belt digging into the small of Zach's back and tongue licking into his ear.

Zach tries to turn around but Chris blocks him with his leg. He flicks Zach's hat off and drops breathy kisses on the back of Zach's neck and Zach reaches behind him to grab at Chris's clothes, pulls him close enough to feel just how hard he is already. Chris grinds against him in response and groans against Zach's overheated neck.

Zach trips Chris up, spins, holds him firmly to the back of the door by his shoulders and Chris's eyes are the wrong color in the shadowy room, black and shiny as the sweat where his collarbones meet—Zach aligns their hips _hard_ to get Chris to obscure their bluelessness with long lashes and parted lips.

" _Ah!_ " Chris gasps, closing his eyes and looking orgasmic just as planned.

"Ha." Zach kisses him, all lingering lips and tantalizing tongues before Chris squirms his arms free enough to get under Zach's shirt, urges him closer and the kiss deepens.

Chris turns his head off to the side for a minute to catch his breath and Zach licks along his jaw line, rough stubble and the lingering taste of sunscreen, sucks at the juncture of neck and jaw. Chris whines and arcs his hips up and it makes Zach feel visceral.

Zach continues to map Chris's skin with his mouth, unbuttons Chris's ugly-as-fuck sweater—it falls to the brown floor with a _whoomph_ —and peels his T-shirt over his head, leans to inhale Chris's sigh. His tongue's insistent this time, and he nips at Zach's bottom lip like it's nourishing him. Zach groans and grinds their cocks together though denim, lets Chris pull off his own excessive layers with his heart beating fast and scary and _so turned on_ , God . . .

Chris might be winning again, slippy-slidey hands up his torso making Zach shake with want, backs Zach up until he's sitting on the edge of the brown bed. The mattress creaks because Chris is leaning over him to kiss slow and sloppy down Zach's body, sucks a nipple into his mouth. Zach curses and stares obsessively, watches the wet pink flick of his tongue over the bud and feels it in his groin like electricity. Chris's tongue goes soft and laving, taking turns with his calloused thumb to pay attention to both of Zach's nipples, velvety before going harder and harder and velvety again and then sucking harder and harder.

Chris drops down even farther as soon as Zach starts to keen, undoes Zach's button and fly miraculously with his teeth and breathes hotly over his cock. Zach closes his eyes for a minute, opens them to find himself staring at their watery gray reflection in the TV screen.

"Zach. Hey. Show's over here."

Zach laughs shakily, blinks down at him. " _God_ you are so . . . "

Chris smiles, those bright teeth—Cheshire-like. "Want my mouth, baby?" His voice is so fucking gorgeous, seductive subsonic boom.

"Wanna fuck you."

"Hm." Chris shrugs and gets to work on removing Zach's shoes, jeans, underwear. "Gonna have to work for it."

"That's the best part."

Chris laughs, but it cuts off because Zach's yanked him up onto the bed and pressed him face-down into the scratchy covers. Chris laughs again and it melts into a feathery moan when Zach forces his hand underneath him to knead at Chris's cock. Chris raises his hips to help and Zach takes a minute to grind himself against Chris's fucking _appetizing_ backside, rough denim texture incredible on Zach's sensitive skin before he relieves Chris of the rest of his clothes.

Chris attempts to overthrow him while Zach is preoccupied with kicking everything into a semi-neat pile on the floor, pulls one of Zach's arms behind his back and unbalances him but Zach uses the momentum to shove Chris closer to the headboard, settles atop him after a hot little struggle that involves ripe-feeling muscles and their cocks lining up for a minute. Zach gets Chris's wrists together and slams them down over his head, watches Chris's accelerating breath up close and kisses him.

Chris flexes his hand but Zach's grip only tightens, gets Chris writhing, his lowly groan reverberating in their mouths until Zach pulls back.

"Stay," Zach says against Chris's chin.

Chris manages to be seductive and pouty at once with those kiss red lips.

Zach procures a pillowcase from the an extra, ludicrously fluffy pillow and returns to loop the material around Chris's wrists, then up around the flimsy metal bars on the headboard.

"Itchy," Chris complains.

"Deal," Zach tells him.

Chris cranes his neck to get a look at the restraints and squirms, testing, fucking slutty when he wets his lips and exhales on a shiver at his captivity. Zach trails his fingers up the center of Chris's chest, gets the brightly blue attention of Chris's eyes zooming over him—from his face to his cock to his oncoming hand. Chris _mm_ 's and turns his head to suck one of Zach's fingers into his mouth, lash-filled look at him that gets Zach to gasp before swirling his tongue and inviting in another finger to give it a fucking blowjob.

Zach removes them when he can't take the sight anymore, strings of saliva falling messily around Chris's mouth. Zach pushes Chris's knees up, pushes a finger into him and bends to leave suctiony kisses along his cock while he's at it, revels in the noises Chris makes. Chris lets him in easy, cants his hips to get more so Zach adds a second finger and sits up to watch Chris's head fall back against the brown bed, dangling a little because of the angle he's tied at. Flushed skin, full cock, helpless lust and helpless Chris secured with impromptu bondage all laid out and panting and just for Zach. Zach starts to get impatient.

He hooks Chris's leg up with his free hand and scissors his fingers while Chris's eyes roll.

"This won't be the best," Zach warns.

"Yes it will." He pushes down on Zach's fingers. "Want it now, Zach—fucking _want_ you . . . "

Zach knows he won't last long, spits into his hand and slicks his cock before replacing his fingers with it to the sound of Chris gone breathless and the feel of him beginning to overwhelm.

Zach starts slow, the better to watch Chris's eyes fall shut and bounce lazily back open, full of blackened blue depravity in the shadows. The room is at least a thousand times as stiflingly hot as before, but it's like an embrace, and there's sweat dripping from Zach's temple and down his spine as he finds a faster rhythm. Gets so caught up in the steady _justalittlemore_ of it that he barely hears Chris—

" _Please_ ," Chris is saying.

Zach groans and shifts them up the bed a little, sinks back in and harder. "Please what?"

"Touch me."

"Oh come on, Chris," Zach pants, reaches up to push his hand into Chris's hair and push his head back to expose his neck. Chris swallows. "Aren't you gonna beg for it?"

" _Please_ ," Chris repeats. "Please, God, please, baby . . . "

Zach touches the softness of Chris's mouth reverently before gripping his thigh and hiking his leg up higher, wraps his other hand around Chris's cock and jerks him in time with his thrusts.

" _Fuck_ fuck fuck fuck _yes_ —"

It doesn't take long before Chris comes, shouting and loud and drowning out the midday traffic just outside, and the chords of his rough breathing and the little whimpers that leak out make Zach have to thrust into Chris hot and deep and hard and come hot and deep and hard while Chris breathes _God, Zach,_ in the background.

Zach reaches up to untie him before rolling off to the side, concerned only with slowing his pulse until Chris turns Zach's head to kiss him, strokes up his cheek before letting his arm flop over him, lifeless. Zach laughs and breaks the kiss.

One of the slits of light from the window splashes perfectly over Chris, making him real. Chris blinks and smiles at him.

Zach's mouth is dry so he's gotta whisper: "Guess we'd better go change before the show."

Chris laughs. "Uh, don't think we're gonna make it now, ha . . . "

"Yeah. Let's just go to the after party." Zach still can't catch his breath, must look crazy staring at Chris like this. "'Kay? You wanna?"

Chris kisses him again in answer.

"Means we've got lots of time, now, though."

"Yeah," Chris says, close. "Hey, you wanna get wasted?"

*


End file.
